


Aftertaste

by teaandchess



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bloodplay, Demon Blood, F/M, Knifeplay, Megstiel - Freeform, Oral Sex, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-11
Updated: 2015-12-11
Packaged: 2018-05-06 04:43:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5403425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teaandchess/pseuds/teaandchess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Remembering Sam’s addiction to demon blood makes Castiel curious.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Aftertaste

The idea came to him when, of all times, Dean was ripping into Sam for acting reckless on a hunt. Castiel sat in the backseat, invisible to them, and watched as Sam physically flinched away from his brother’s wrath. He felt like appearing to them, offering comfort to the younger Winchester but on the whole Dean was right. Sam had been reckless. Increasingly so.

“You think you’re invincible or something, Sam? I got a news flash for you, invincible you aren’t!” Dean shouted, leaning halfway across the seat at him.

“I was trying to help you,” Sam whispered. “I didn’t think the vampire had a full blown nest yet. I was trying to buy time!”

“You started that weird Doctor Phil shit. You think she cared that you knew what bloodlust was like? That you felt the same…weird thrill from it?” Dean demanded. “Damn it, Sam, do you really need to relive that?”

“You have no idea what it was like, coming off that. Maybe she genuinely wanted to stop!” Sam shouted at him before he shoved the Impala door open and stormed out. Dean made a face and stared after him.

“Demon blood, human blood, it’s all gross,” he muttered as he shouldered his own way out and followed Sam down the side road to stop him.

In the back seat, Castiel puzzled over the implications of what must have happened between Sam and that vampire.

#

He was still musing over it later that night when he was sitting in the ratty armchair of a rundown motel room. Such a problem absorbed his attention. So much so that his shirt was unbuttoned and a hot mouth was running down his chest, hitting every erogenous zone on his skin, and he barely realized it. With his head tilted back his brow remained furrowed and his eyes narrowed, seeing only the ceiling. Only the soft grunt he gave when slim legs straddled his hips and pressed silk panties down onto his groin let his partner know he was paying any sort of attention at all. Then he was back to staring at the cracks in the popcorn stucco.

Naturally enough, Meg was insulted by the fact that his focus wasn’t totally on her. Reaching out, she twisted his nipple so hard that he jerked up and shoved at her, causing her to topple off his lap and onto the floor. She blew a stream of air out that lifted her hair out of her eyes and picked herself up, eyes flashing dark sparks at him. Castiel glanced at her finally and licked his lips nervously when he saw the look in her eyes.

“Something on your mind, wings?” she asked as she took her place back in his lap. She bent over and began to lick and suck at his neck, letting out tiny mewling moans that normally caused him to react exactly how she expected. Usually he’d grip her hips, grind her down on him and toss her around the room with him as they fucked until the room was in shambles.

Tonight, though, he simply arched his neck and let her lip and nuzzle at his skin. Eventually, Meg reached up and tugged on his chin so he looked at her.

“Hmm?” He opened his eyes a little wider to take her in. She was clad in only her silk embroidered bra and panties, her lips swollen from kisses and her skin flushed with desire. She’d never looked more inviting but he wondered…

“I said, something on your mind? You’re usually moody but this whole ‘not paying your demon a lick of attention’ ain’t gonna fly.” She raised her hands and cupped her breasts, rubbing her thumbs across her nipples to make them hard. “I even got all pretty for you.”

He rolled his eyes because he knew she dressed to suit herself, and leaned back. “I was just thinking.”

“About?”

“The Winchesters.”

“Ugh, mood killer and cock blocker. What about them?” Meg let go of her breasts and leaned back on his lap, thrusting her lower lip out like a petulant girl. Castiel lowered his hands to her hips and held her still.

“Sam’s thinking about demon’s blood again. It was just nostalgia, I think. A vampire reminded him about his past experiences. Naturally, Dean is upset with him.”

“Oh.” Meg arched a brow but said nothing else.

“It is just…the occasional thought. I think it troubles them both how susceptible he might be because of it.”

“Well, we are delicious.” She leaned forward and licked her tongue across his jaw. “Aren’t we?”

“I think demon’s blood tastes different than your flesh,” he said, trying hard to sound wry as the rasp of her tongue on his skin caused his breath to hitch in his throat.

“Maybe.” She continued to press tiny kisses to his throat and jaw. “Maybe not.”

Castiel raised a hand to her dark hair and held the soft waves tightly to still her mouth. “Is Sam vulnerable?”

“In this? Probably. I don’t give the Winchesters much by way of smarts, you know,” Meg said. “To humans, demon blood is a drug. And he tried the full gamut and tasted power. You of all people know how addictive that is.”

He flinched and tugged on her hair to draw her up. Meg groaned and rested her hands on his chest, tilting her head on the side while she stared at him.

“What do you want me to say, Clarence?”

“How much danger is Sam in of relapse, even after all these years?”

She wrinkled her nose and looked up at the ceiling as if thinking it over. “50-50. Just a teaser would get him hooked again.”

Castiel digested that uneasily. “I wish I could understand.”

“You’re too goody goody, handsome.” She stroked her hand down his chest, twirled her thumb over his nipple, and smiled when he shifted uneasily beneath her. “I don’t get it myself.”

“You’ve done it before?”

Meg shrugged. “A few lovers, here and there. Humans get addicted to your blood, it’s useful for a time until it gets annoying. Not to mention there’s something about it I find…” She didn’t finish.

“It must feel strange, on both sides.”

“The idea of letting someone nurse off your blood like that implies a lot for the demon.”

“Trust?”

Meg shrugged and bit into her lower lip as she let her fingers glide over his skin.

“I imagine it would feel like betrayal too. If you forced the demon.”

Another shrug, another caress.

“Do you trust me?” Castiel asked and her eyes darted up to his face. They flickered between black and brown, slid from his forehead to chin with a quick sweeping glance.

“I don’t trust anyone,” she said and he nodded.

“But if you could, would you trust me?” he pressed. Meg removed her hand from his chest. “I need to protect Sam from himself if I have to. Dean seems concerned.”

“Then clamp his mouth shut and keep an eye on him.”

“I want to understand his struggle.”

“Angels are made of sterner stuff than humans, cloudhopper. You know that.” But she didn’t move from his lap and he watched her eyes search his face for something beneath the surface of what he showed. Castiel reached up and cupped her cheek in his hand, smoothing his thumb over the curve of her jaw. His hand dove back into her hair and pulled hard so that her throat was exposed by the angle. Rocking up, his abdomen contracting tightly beneath her groin, he ran his tongue up her neck and tasted her perfume and natural scent, his teeth nipping hard enough to sting. Meg moaned under the ministrations, her eyes fluttering closed as he kissed and nipped his way along her collar bone, shivering in his hold until he came to her ear.

“Show me,” he whispered and he kissed the spot just below her lobe. “Trust me not to hurt you. I’ll trust you to show me what I want to learn.”

He knew her eyes opened to the ceiling again but she didn’t stop shivering until he leaned back away from her ear. Her eyes were dark and slitted, suspicion making her mouth a tight line, but after a moment she simply swung her legs back and slipped from his lap. She stretched like a cat and then swaggered to the bed, looking over her shoulder at him.

‘Don’t make me regret this’ her expression said for her and he stood up from the chair, his shirt hanging in halves on his body. His belt hung open and he surreptitiously zipped himself back up before following Meg to the bed. She laid down on her back, propped up by the pillows, and reached beneath one to remove her angel sword she always kept on her body. Castiel stared at the gleaming metal for a moment before his eyes flicked back to hers. She was chewing into her lower lip again, the low light making her pale skin glow and reflect off the angel sword, but she eventually handed it over.

Castiel palmed it and watched her legs stretch out to bracket his own. She was a sight, he had to admit. Even the dark soul to her looked near edible to him, not that he quite understood the reason behind that analogy. From the sprawl of her pale limbs to her dark waves cascading over her breasts to the thorny beauty that he saw whenever he looked deeper, everything led his vision to the sensuousness of her. Meg knew fully well her effect on him but she only braced up on the pillows and her elbows, her chin raised a little.

Swallowing down a bundle of nerves in his throat, he knelt between her raised legs and took her one arm in his hand. He felt her resistance but gently tugged forward until the arm was loose and relaxed, turned it over and laid the blade of the angel sword flat to her skin. With his eyes on hers, Castiel drew the sharp edge down in a tiny cut on her forearm. Meg hissed and the smell of copper and sulphur raised in the air. Castiel looked away and laid the sword on the bed beside her hip before lowering his head. The nervous feeling in the pit of his stomach grew as his lips came closer to the cut.

“Just do it. You’ll see it’s no big deal,” Meg said though her own breathing seemed to stutter out unevenly.

Castiel clamped his lips to either side of the cut and gently sucked. Metallic blood touched his tongue and he flicked the tip to the edge of the wound to press it down further. Meg’s breathing stopped and he was suddenly aware of how hard his own heart was banging in his chest.

At first there was nothing. It was just the strange metallic taste he’d known before when he’d tasted his own body’s blood from a blow. There was nothing unusual here and he was confused. Surely there had to be something for humans like Sam to be so addicted. He sucked a little harder, lapping at the wound to clean it for her without really realizing what he was doing. There was nothing here but blood. All just plain flavour.

He let himself look at her face and noticed her watching him. Castiel saw the question in her eyes.

His lips were just starting to remove when he tasted it. Tasted the moment that Meg’s blood turned from plain to demonic. Copper metal became smoky richness and flooded his senses and he moved back, tugging her arm up to his mouth more fully, chasing the taste. Pleasure suffused his body and he felt regenerated, and knew that it was Meg’s power and darkness wrapping around him. Sensations he’d only imagined coursed through his body and he shuddered, wanting more. His Grace rebelled against what he was doing but Castiel closed his eyes and sucked harder on the wound, stroking his hand down her arm to her shoulder. Meg made a tiny sound in her throat but left her arm where it was.

His fingers curved around her breast and he felt the softness give beneath the pressure of his hand. His teeth grazed her flesh and he felt her twitch as the wound finished closing up, the healed skin folding over beneath his tongue.

When he pulled away, her eyes were brown and guileless. Castiel touched his lips, found them swollen, and barely remembered to take a breath. Meg’s chest heaved and he saw how nervous he’d made her, especially when he grasped the angel sword again.

But she bared her throat all the same and let him draw another small cut on the curve where her neck met her shoulder. He didn’t hesitate this time, he simply rocked down and planted his mouth over the fresh wound, eyes rolling closed in pleasure as smoky heat enveloped his taste-buds. The electricity of her blood swamped him, elated him, and stole his resistance so that he rested his weight atop her, letting her take the brunt of his body as he took in her blood as gently as he could.

Her legs wrapped around his hips and he felt her start a slow, grinding rhythm against his erection. She gasped for breath and clutched his shoulders with her hands, tearing at his shirt buttons when he rocked with her. Castiel felt his cock harden to the point of pain and he moaned against her throat while he increased the suction.

Darkness flooded him and he didn’t care. All of his concentration, his senses, centred on the warmth of her blood and body, on the feel of her blood moving over his tongue. He tasted her memories, her fears and pain, tasted her strength, and the intimacy of it coursed through him and he thought he understood.

He wanted so much more of the power he felt hidden away inside of her. Even though she wasn’t as strong as he was, it was so…so…

Unknown.

Her hands clawed at his shoulders and he heard her whimper as the wound healed itself so that he was sucking on bare but clean flesh. Disappointed at the loss, Castiel reared back and stared down at her, eyes widening when he noticed that she now held the angel blade between them. The point was at his stomach and he knew it would take a small movement from her to slash his abdomen to ribbons.

He had to trust her.

Meg’s eyes flicked down from the popcorn stucco to look at him but she didn’t speak. Instead, without breaking her stare, she reached down and slit a deeper line on the inside of her thigh. At her low moan of pain, Castiel looked down and his breath caught in his throat at the sight. The blood welled, thick and deep red, weeping down the curve of her thigh to the yellow bedspread. The smell was thick and heavy in the air-conditioned room, the odour clinging to the sheets and to her skin and drenching her in possibilities. Possibilities Castiel wasn’t sure of.

Her legs untangled from his waist and he ran his hand down the length of her unwounded leg. Meg’s free fingers tangled in his hair and led him downward, so his mouth touched her neck, her breast, her stomach, the top of her silk covered mound, and then to the curve of that injured thigh. Castiel breathed her in, smelling female desire, and when he ran his hand back up to lightly cup her, he felt how wet she was even through the material. Meg murmured something unintelligible and nicked herself on the thigh so the blood wept again, before leading his mouth there. Eagerly, he let her leg rest over his shoulder and lowered his head to take her into his mouth.

Blood flowed more freely here, tasting of sex, tasting of want and copper and smoke, and he pressed closer, clutching her thigh tighter to his lips. Meg moaned and beneath his hand he felt her hips rise and fall, the friction of his knuckles giving her just enough to rock against. The hard point of his cock burned as he felt her leg brush over him and he began to move against her leg with slow thrusts. Low keening moans escaped her throat as he groaned and sucked harder than before, until the skin around the wound bruised and the ruptured flesh raised to his lips. The blood escaped his mouth a little and he laved his tongue over her thigh to catch it.

The feel of her hand against his made him remove his lips to her hipbone, watching as she started to force his palm to move harder against her clit. The softness of her was hot and wet through the silk and he slid his hand beneath her panties to cup her fully, fingers sliding in with remarkable ease. He felt her velvet inner walls grasp hungrily at his fingers and he began to pump them slowly, curving the tips towards her front so that he rubbed against the tiny spot inside her that would cause her to shake. Meg moaned and shifted, impatiently spreading her legs wider to try to draw him downward again to where she wanted him.

Breathing hard, he resisted the pull of her wetness and moved his mouth back to the cut. Meg grumbled under her breath and drew another line, this one closer to the vee of her legs, and he shifted so he was as close as he could get without cramping her legs. His head pillowed on her pelvis, he began to rhythmically suck at the blood dripping from her inner thigh until it slicked his tongue. The smoke drenched his veins, filled his stomach, and he thought, for a moment, that this was what sin tasted like. Absolute sin given a cocktail of flavour.

Oh Heaven, he was already addicted and it wasn’t to her blood. It was to everything she embodied.

Castiel moaned against the curve of her thigh and dragged her leg closer over his shoulder so she encompassed him with her limbs. He felt the slow squeeze of her thighs on either side of his head as he increased the pressure of his mouth, the hand trapped between them nudging deeper inside of her when her cunt gripped his fingers and tugged on them with rhythmic pulses. He didn’t thrust his fingers, just let them rest, and her hips undulated against him anyway, seeking friction that his body could give her. As awkward as it was, he found himself seeking to push harder into her body, wanting more of her. Wanting to be surrounded by her.

Meg made a soft, whining moan as her hips rose in a sharp arch and he groaned again, the sound muffled by her skin and he tasted a spurt of blood as it rushed through her body in reaction to her orgasm and the way her legs flailed. Holding her steady, Castiel rolled on the bed with Meg and kept his mouth secured around the wound weeping for him, his fingers lazily stroking the velvety walls entrapping them. He was scissored between her thighs and he felt them squeeze tighter as her climax tore through her body, as powerful as ever, and he reached down to grasp himself through his trousers. The instant his fingers made contact, the sensation was almost too intense when combined with the taste of her in his mouth.

His own orgasm came with surprising speed, bursting through his lungs and striking down his body in a confusing mix of heat and endorphins. With a long guttural moan he let go of her thigh and shuddered from head to toe as he pressed his face against her thigh. He was coming in his pants and not caring as the fabric turned hot and sticky from it. Meg continued to roll her hips as her own orgasm rippled through her body still and he turned his head to taste the leak of wetness coming from her, the taste of sex so strong that it mixed with the blood already on his tongue with a headiness that nearly made him feel drunk. She shuddered, too sensitive for him to linger for long, and drew her legs up closer to her body. He grappled with her one leg to keep it close to him, enjoying the close contact. His own body continued to roll against the mattress, the shockwaves of the aftermath making even his very nerve-endings sing and he set his teeth gently against the healing wound.

Her fingers came to his hair and tugged, causing him to open his eyes and look up at her. She was staring at him, amazingly seductive with her eyes to slits and her lips swollen from biting back her cries. Castiel stared back and shifted his weight onto her, pressing a kiss against her stomach as he slowly crawled up her body again, settling his weight onto of her. He pressed his mouth against the healed cut on her neck, wondered if he could worry it open with his tongue, and then lifted his head so they were nose to nose.

“Curiosity solved?” Meg asked, opening her eyes wider to take him in. He nodded and flicked his tongue across his lips, the tip of it touching her own mouth.

“I can see why Dean would be so concerned. Your taste is…” He shuddered as the hand in his hair drifted down to rasp her nails against the curve of his spine. “…incredible.”

Her eyebrow lifted and she grinned, her fingers going beneath his halved shirt to trace his spine. “You’re not complaining.”

“No.” Leaning down, he brushed his mouth against hers before firming the contact, his tongue slipping past her lips to stroke hers with his. The taste of blood filled their mouths but it wasn’t copper rich. It was sultry smoke and fire. It was desire and power intermingled as one.

Shivering, she broke the kiss and stared up at him, the hand on the small of his back tightening a little to keep his pelvis pressed to hers though the contact was uncomfortable for him. Castiel lifted a hand to her face, brushing her hair away, and then settling the flat of his palm to her forehead. The ancient threat was there, he could see her tiny bit of fear and more than a little bit of bravado as her chin raised, daring him as she always did. It caused him to smile, something he didn’t often do, and he lowered his mouth again to try to kiss her.

With a rush of air, he found himself tossed on his back with the petite demon straddling him, her dark hair curtaining her breasts and her groin moving into his with slow, accented movements mimicking what he suddenly longed to do with her though his body still begged exhaustion. Meg’s head tilted back and he froze as she leaned over to grab the angel sword from the bed.

Her onyx eyes nearly sparkled and she began to trace the flat of the blade down his chest, lifting it until the point nicked his chest. A shimmer of light and blood followed and she bent over to lave at the wound with her tongue. Whatever she tasted made her groan in a mixture of pain and pleasure. Her now brown eyes darted up to look at his face and he gasped as she sucked hard on the surrounding skin. Chuckling, Meg rolled herself forward and her hair fell to drape about their faces. She licked his lips, traced the curve of them, so that he tasted Grace and blood when he flicked his tongue out to wet his chapped lips.

The blade came to rest on his forearm before she reached up with her free hand to push her hair out of her face. She grinned down at him.

“Do you trust me?” she breathed against his lips and he swallowed.

“Yes.” He had to be truthful. “As much as possible for us, that is.”

That earned him a softer smile.

“That’s my boy.” She kissed him hard so that his lips burned from the pressure and his tongue ached from matching the strength of her kiss.

He barely felt the first nick on his forearm but when her lips came to rest on the mark, to suck the light and blood from his body with the same sound of agonized pleasure as before, he held her tightly to him and whispered,

“I trust you.”


End file.
